For Happy Returns
by BringAndFly
Summary: Before Harry leaves The Burrow to go Horcrux hunting, he gives Ginny a birthday present. Why is he so keen that she not open it in front of him?


A/N: Originally written as a birthday present for Ofmythandlegend, at LJ. It takes place at The Burrow after the end of HBP.

For Happy Returns. 

"Ginny? Ginny, wait up!"

Ginny paused at the sound of her name and turned, knowing the voice well. She smiled.

"Hi Harry. Where's the fire?" There was no need to raise her voice as Harry was dashing along the landing towards her, his socked feet skidding to a halt on the polished boards. He 'oofed' as he hit the banister, recoiled and walked back to her, taking the last few steps more sedately.

He was trying to control his panting by puffing each exhaled breath through the pursed 'o' of his mouth. Ginny leaned against the wall and waited. It had to be something significant for him to break their self-imposed distancing act –as that was all it was in Ginny's eyes; an act.

He swallowed and tried to wet his mouth. Ginny watched a stray sunbeam turn his hair into a dazzling iridescence that would rival a magpie's wing.

"I wanted to, er, well—" He had something in his right hand and it wasn't his wand. Ginny eyed it curiously. It had been inexpertly wrapped with a gaudy striped paper but this only emphasized the squarish and flat boxy shape.

"Ginny, I wanted to—" he said again and Ginny wondered what was up. Harry ran a shaky hand through his hair, swore mildly under his breath and suddenly thrust the parcel almost into her midriff. "Happy Birthday, Ginny."

Ginny weighed the present in her hand; it was light, and her face lit up at the thought that Harry had made the effort to get her something with everything else he had to think about.

"Harry. I didn't expect— I mean, thank you." _Damn! Now they were both tongue-tied._ Her fingers started to tear the paper but Harry caught her wrist and looked around furtively. Ginny copied him, stepping nearer; he gulped.

"Aren't you going to keep it for the actual day?"

Ginny tried to keep eye contact with him for as long as possible, but Harry seemed to be having difficulty meeting her eyes, glancing repeatedly at her face. At least she thought it was her face. "No, not specially. I want to know what you got me and I thought you'd like to see me—"

Sudden colour raced up from Harry's throat to lodge in his cheeks as she spoke and Ginny was intrigued, plucking at the paper afresh.

Harry laid a quick hand briefly over hers. It was warm and clammy. "You, er, might want to open that upstairs." He nodded at the present.

Ginny stared at him in bemusement. Was that the pale sheen of sweat on his top lip? "Why?"

Then, to further disconcert the petite redhead, Harry pushed right in close and clumsily kissed her temple so close to her eye that it closed reflexively.

He made to dart away but Ginny caught the front of his shirt and prevented him. "Harry, wait." After everything he'd said!

He hesitated, the front of his shirt straining against her hold. "Ginny… please."

Ginny tightened her grip, rubbing the weave between her finger and thumb, memorising the feel of the worn-soft shirt cotton, the sensation of being close to him, his warmth and energy, knowing that all too soon it would have to last her for some time.

He was staring past her at the scuffs on the wall as though it was some sort of secret message, the small muscle at the angle of his jaw tensing repeatedly. Ginny relaxed her fierce grip, the cotton remaining in its scrunch until she eased her hand forward to rest on Harry's ribs. He was taking quick, shallow breaths, his chest barely moving and Ginny knew being this close was really testing his determination to stick with his 'we can't'.

"Can I at least thank you properly?" Ginny was surprised by how low her voice sounded in the suddenly dull corridor.

Harry's eyes flashed, so quickly did he look into her face and away and yet Ginny's heart was suddenly pounding.

While he was frozen into immobility, she spread her fingers and sneaked them forward, dragging the smooth cotton back. The buttons, always sloppy in the worn holes, began to pop out exposing a skewed V down his breastbone until she had her arm round him and had to move closer or stay leaning at this stupidly awkward angle.

His pulse was fluttering rapidly in his neck and Ginny knew it was keeping pace with her own.

"I _like_ this shirt," she breathed.

One of those highly-charged lightning grins passed across his face and through her gut, and then Ginny was leaning against him, her cheek against the warm, bare skin. His heart was pounding as she half-embraced him, everything in her savouring and storing every tiny detail; the feel, the sound, the smell of him. She felt oddly light, as though her body had no substance, although she was aware of the smooth warmth of the carpet runner under her bare feet.

His hand moved as though he was going to return the embrace, actually brushing her hip before dropping away; he took a shuddering breath and Ginny knew it was time to leave. She squeezed him hard one last time, touched her lips to his chest and, with an abruptness that almost made her stumble, let go and turned away. Keeping her eyes rigidly on the faded carpet, she passed the window, and scrambled up the stairs.

Only when she was sure no one would catch her did she swipe the back of her hand across her hot, stinging eyes the better to examine the present hungrily.

The paper had been used before; she could tell from the remaining scraps of that sticky tape Hermione used when she was wrapping things. That didn't matter to Ginny, it simply showed how far ahead Harry had been thinking.

She wiped her brimming eyes again, sinking down onto the halfway stair and letting her hair fall forward in a shielding curtain.

Harry had chosen this for her birthday. She would have something from him on that day.

As much as she was desperate to know what the shallow box contained, her heart told her it would mean more to her on her birthday, and it had been what Harry wanted.

She smoothed the torn paper back over the box as best she could. She would hide it at the bottom of her school trunk until the eleventh.

One minute after midnight on the tenth of August, she would open it and hear Harry wish her a happy birthday all over again. She would relive the hug, the kiss, and send him her love, wherever he was.

finitum est


End file.
